The Last Part of the Deal
by Loki's Scribe
Summary: The demon's physical appearance was rather unexpected when Crowley appeared to return Bobby's soul.


_Characters not mine._

_(Originally written for a prompt on comment_fic requesting Crowley with a female host.)_

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She had short strawberry blonde hair and ridiculously high heels that only made already long legs seem longer. She had also appeared suddenly, without any warning, just off of Bobby's property. He had the shotgun out before she made it to the front porch, and she stopped when she noticed it was leveled steadily at her chest and looked up at him. Bobby thought she might have been trying for innocent, but innocent was difficult to pull off around a wide smirk.

"What the hell're you doing here?"

She smiled widely at him, a bit of the smirk lingering in the expression, and when she spoke, it was with a very familiar cadence and British accent. "Why Bobby, I would have expected you to be happy to see me."

Bobby didn't lower the gun. "Crowley."

"Well, yes."

"Any particular reason you look different?"

"Many," Crowley said dryly. "I suppose you are asking me to _share_ them with you."

Crowley started to climb the steps, but Bobby just moved the gun so it was still trained on the demon, and got an exasperated sigh from the demon for his efforts.

"Oh, for God's sake," Crowley said. "I was in the literary agent's meatsuit because it was _expedient_. I much prefer this one."

"Do you?"

Crowley snorted. "Look, gender's difficult and I don't really feel the need to explain it to you, but it's one of those things that exits the spirit with one's humanity in Hell. To an extent. At any rate, most of us are perfectly willing to use both Body A _and_ Body B, because it's just nice to feel flesh again."

"My heart bleeds," Bobby growled.

"That's not to say we don't have our preferences." Crowley blinked, and her eyes briefly went demon black before returning to their imitation-human color. "And I am a Crossroads demon. Most of the ones you've met previously have been in female bodies, if I recall correctly?"

She tried to climb the steps again, but Bobby just shifted, making her more aware of the gun.

She sighed. "If you could change bodies at will and wished to fly under the radar a little bit, then wouldn't it make sense to change to a body that no one would expect you to take? In my case, that was a man - and for that matter, an American."

Bobby hesitated - Crowley had complained, loudly and frequently, that he (or maybe she had always been she; it wasn't clear anymore) was one of the most hunted demons in Hell. Of course, the body Crowley had been in at the time had met a couple of other interesting demons along the way when she'd thrown her lot in with him and the Winchesters. "Why go back now?"

"Because Lucifer is back in his cage, and the world's in enough disarray that no one's really that concerned about Crowley who got away," she answered. "Not enough to track down the next meatsuit, at least. So the last one is back in New York rejecting pointless pieces of literature and begging magazines to look at the ones he considers art, and I got myself something a little more comfortable." She looked up at him with a slightly frustrated, mostly calculating expression. Bobby had seen it on the demon a couple of times and wasn't entirely certain he liked it. "You said my name, not me. Surely you know me even if you don't trust me."

That much was true, and Bobby reluctantly lowered the gun. "What're you doing here?"

She started picking her way up the steps - those heels had _not_ been intended for anywhere on Bobby's property. "I told you your soul was a loan, not a sale."

Bobby blinked. "Oh."

She smirked. "What? Did you think that I'd go back on it the moment the Apocalypse was over? Please."

"Forgive me. Can't say I've ever met a trustworthy demon."

"Trustworthy?" She stiffened a little, as though the word had deeply offended her. Which, given weird demon ethics, it may have. "I'm not that. But I do keep my contracts. Even the unwritten ones."

And now she was in his personal space. Bobby cringed back a little bit. It wasn't as though it was unexpected, and Bobby did really want control of his own damn soul back, but still . . . there was a girl in there with the demon, and one who might be semi-conscious without real control of her own body. That made so much as brushing past her awkward, let alone swapping spit. "Don't think I'm gonna enjoy this any more just because you're not a man this time."

She chuckled, and the smirk widened again. "No. This is business to me, too." She leaned in, brushed her lips against his, and in a moment or two it was all over with considerably less fanfare than the first time. A weird sort of warmth spread through Bobby's body again. His soul, presumably. He'd gone all cold when Crowley had taken it away.

She leaned back and nodded slightly in satisfaction. "Happy?"

Bobby shrugged. "Shocked," he admitted.

"Good. Now call Dean and tell him I'm as good as my word. Maybe then he'll call his angel dogs off."


End file.
